Muse
by crimepays
Summary: A sequel to "I've Imagined It All." Brittany is Santana's muse as she struggles to please her record label and reignite their love.
1. Clio

**AN - **This is a sequel to "I've Imagined It All." It picks up immediately where the first left off.

* * *

><p><em><strong>MUSE<strong>_

_**Clio**__ - was one of the nine Muses, the goddesses of music, song and dance. Her name was derived from the Greek verb kleô, "to make famous" or "celebrate." In Classical times, when the Mousai were assigned specific literary and artistic spheres, Clio was named Muse of history. In this guise she was represented holding an open scroll or seated beside a chest of books._

"Only happy songs."

Those were the last words shared between them. Brittany had placed a tender kiss on her forehead, squeezed her tightly, stepped into her car and had gone home. Santana was pretty sure she knew what it all meant. Brittany had all but demanded that she play the song again. She'd nodded when Santana had asked her to be with her. She'd looked into her eyes like there were no others in the world. Santana was pretty sure that they were back together. But Brittany had just disappeared into her car and back to her house.

A day later, after typing out and erasing several text messages, Santana called her. As the rings came through, her heart thumped against her chest. It felt like the time she'd called Brittany after their first kiss.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Her heavy breath echoed against the receiver.

"Are we ok?"

"Santana, oh honey, of course we are." Brittany chuckled a little. "What would make you say that?"

"Well," she could feel the tears welling. It didn't help that she'd had a few drinks to build up the courage to call. "Well I was worried, you just left last night."

"I'm sorry. I needed a little time to think."

"And?"

"And I thought."

"Britt." Santana scolded mockingly.

"I want to be with you, Santana, I do." This was beginning to sound like a conversation Santana had heard before.

"But?"

"But I think we should take things slowly. I'm not really sure how we go from the mess that we were into something that's nice and clean. I think we should go back to the beginning. Date again. Get to know each other all over again. It will feel like high school, but without all of the fear of being 'discovered' or being 'outed.' It'll be better this time around, I know it."

"But how do we start over, Britt? We have so much history. We've shared so much. We can't just erase that."

"No. And I don't want to erase that. Our history has made us who we are, Santana, and I would never change who we are. But, we also need to move forward. We can move forward without forgetting our past."

"Yeah," Santana paused, thinking. Her fingers played with the hem of her shirt as she sat atop the bed. "Ok. Well if we're going to start over, can I take you out?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Santana could hear Brittany smiling through the phone.

They hung up with plans for Santana to pick Brittany up from her apartment and go to dinner at a sushi restaurant in Malibu, one of Santana's favorites. Santana knew three days would be a struggle, but their schedules wouldn't allow for a sooner time. She'd been tempted to ask Brittany if she just wanted to come over for a late night dinner at the house, or an early morning breakfast, but neither of those options seemed to be on the "slow route." Instead, she'd opted for a racing heart and a tumbling stomach for three days while she waited for the night.

The days were starting to get busy again. (Not that they weren't busy before, but when Santana was in her depths of despair, busy days didn't matter. She didn't engage in them in the first place.) Her manager had set up a meeting with the label following the MTV special. They'd be discussing her public persona, the fallout from the TV show, and the next steps with the label. While the new image hadn't had an impact on her yet - aside from some acquaintances calling to congratulate her on her success - the next steps part of things concerned her. She hadn't composed in months. The whole ordeal with Brittany had caused her to retreat so far into herself that she couldn't even put her feelings into writing or music. Now, she still couldn't put those feelings into writing because Brittany wanted 'only happy songs.' And 'only happy songs' she'd give her. She stayed up until nearly four in the morning, plucking at guitar strings, scribbling then scratching out lyrics. Only happy songs.

She met her manager at his office around noon with the intent of planning out their message to the label. She'd opted for a printed dress instead of the jeans and t-shirts of more recent days. The printed dress wouldn't scream "I'm here and I'm queer" quite as much as the jeans and t-shirt she'd thought about wearing. In any case, the MTV special had screamed that phrase for her; she didn't need to go scaring the label any more.

"What did you think of the show?" Her manager smiled as he asked, presuming that she'd answer in the positive.

"It was exactly what I needed. I can't thank you enough, really."

"And Brittany?"

"We're going to see each other in a couple of days. For a date." Santana broke into a full-fledged smile as she pulled her manager into a hug. "Exactly what I needed," she whispered again into his ear.

They took their seats and shifted gears.

"Tell me what you want for Santana Lopez next. Santana Lopez - the singer and superstar, I mean."

She'd been thinking about it. Since the special aired on television, aside from Brittany, it was all she could think about. "I want to write again. Ideally, I love to be back at the Grammys within the year, though this next time I go, I'd love to have a hot blonde on my arm and actually enjoy myself. I want to put out a new album soon. I haven't started on much yet, but I have some ideas. I was working on a song last night that is close to being complete. "

"Yeah? Another 'One and Only'?" He seemed to be sitting at the edge of his leather office chair.

"I don't know if I'd call it another 'One and Only.' Brittany's made me promise to write only happy songs from now on. So, I'd say it's a happy song."

"'One and Only' wasn't necessarily sad."

"It wasn't, you're right. But it was about a life I never had. A life that at the time, I couldn't have. I think it's pretty clear if you go back and watch the Grammy performance that it wasn't the brightest time in my life."

"So tell me about the new song."

"It's about the past. A good time in the past. It's about a day I would live again and again and again if I could."

"Like Groundhog Day, huh, Bill Murray?"

"Um, sure?"

"You're too young, I guess. It's a great movie. Watch it sometime." He smirked at her from behind his desk. "Ok, so we should scoot here soon. The message is: new album, Grammys again next year. Sound right?"

"Sounds perfect."

Thirty minutes later, Santana was sipping mineral water, her legs crossed delicately on a plush leather couch. Three men in business suits surrounded her and a few sat in the outer circle, taking notes. Her manager sat beside her on the couch, again leaning forward in excitement.

"Gentleman." Her manager nodded as the meeting began. "We'd like to propose funding for a new album, sometime in the next three months or so. Ms. Lopez has been working on some new songs. Consider the new album a more mature Santana, with roots in what makes her unique - an emotional voice, swelling choruses, talented fingers on the guitar and piano."

The pinstripe suit on the left spoke up first. "Do you have any demos of these new songs?"

"No." Santana chimed in. "I haven't been to the studio yet."

"I think before we can commit money to this project, we're going to need to hear a few of the songs."

"That's ridiculous." Santana could see her manager's face flushing. "You never asked for any of the new songs before the rerelease of her last album. What makes this one different?'

"Really?" The suits looked around at one another, eyebrows raised, the corners of their mouths upturned. "Do you really have to ask that question? Look, we're not kicking her off the label and we're not making any unreasonable demands here. You manage other artists. You know that this happens sometimes, especially after a tumultuous event in the talent's life."

"My name is Santana and you don't have to speak about me as though I'm not here. If that's what you want - a few songs - I can get them to you. Though I may get them to another label first." She stood. "We'll be in touch."

That night she couldn't resist as she plugged Brittany's number into her phone. She was tucked under her comforter in sweats and a t-shirt, her cheeks stained with nervous tears.

"Britt?" Her voice just barely surfaced.

"What's wrong, San? What's wrong, baby?" Concern oozed through the phone.

"The label."

"Did they drop you? What happened? One of the artists I'm choreographing for now is on that label. Pretty high-powered, too. I can get him to send those jerks a message."

"No, no, Britt. They didn't drop me. But they didn't exactly pick me up with rousing second-time endorsements either."

"What do they want?"

"For me to record some songs in order for them to decide whether or not to keep things going." Santana's voice broke on the last word.

"Oh, San. I'm sure that your songs will be fantastic. They always are. I mean, you do have me as your source of inspiration and I'm pretty awesome."

Santana choked out a laugh through her tears. "True."

"Have you been working on anything?"

"A little. Nothing I'm too happy with."

"Well, when you're happy with it, I'd love to hear it."

"Maybe after our date?" Her voice was hopeful. Taking things slow could fall by the wayside. The quickest way into Britt-Britt's heart (and other parts) was through song.

"With pleasure."

"Thanks for cheering me up, Britt."

"Anytime. I'm looking forward to seeing you soon."

"Me too."

Santana jumped out of her bed as she ended the call. Her guitar was resting against the piano in the main room. Tuning issues be damned, she stepped out into the muggy beach air and began strumming, reworking the melodies and rhythms of her latest song. A notepad sat on the wicker table beside her, lyrics scratched out and new lyrics penned in. She'd already decided on a title, she just needed to fix up a few of the lyrics. This song would be dedicated to a first. Brittany had convinced her to write happy songs. She went back to a happy place. Perhaps the happiest of places. The first time she knew she was in love. _First Day of My Life_. It was the perfect start to her new album. Her happy album. A song about the history of love.

The restaurant was no longer just a favorite. It was the best restaurant ever. Brittany's eyes sparkled in the candlelight of their walled off private room. Having removed their shoes upon entrance, their toes played together underneath the shortened table. Santana watched her hand shake as she used her chopsticks to feed Brittany another bite of her sushi roll. Dinner felt like it was lasting a lifetime, and Santana was okay with that. More than okay with that, she was thrilled to be spending a lifetime with Brittany.

"You said you were working with someone from my label now?" Santana realized that she'd been so wrapped up in her own drama that she hadn't had a chance to ask Brittany about the recent comings and goings of her life.

"Yep. Doing a little bit of this and a little bit of that. He's got a big video coming out. Originally, they wanted me to be the lead dancer in it and possibly go on tour, but the managers and agents and whatnot all sat down and had a little pow-wow and I got my way. So now I'm the choreographer for this video. And, I'm shopping around some other things. I heard about this reality show about dancers. Also, there's an opening for a full-time choreographer for a music video production group. So there's a lot going on." Brittany was gushing and Santana was all ears. Her heart fluttered as she watched Brittany pour out her passion.

"I'm so proud of you, Britt. You're such a talented dancer and you deserve everything that comes your way." She put down her chopsticks and snaked her hand across the table, intertwining her sweaty fingers with Brittany's. "I've missed this. I've missed us."

"Me too."

"So do you want to hear this new song I've been working on?" Santana bit her lip to stave off her nervous energy.

"I would love to. Should we go back to your place?"

"Sounds lovely."

After a few minutes of fighting over the bill, Brittany relented and allowed Santana to pay. She poked her head out of the door and quickly popped back in.

"San," there was concern in her voice. "Santana, there are a bunch of photographers outside."

"Shit. I don't know what...the last time this happened...what the hell, Britt!" Her face became more and more flushed as anger roiled to the surface.

Brittany put her hand on Santana's shoulder, rubbing a thumb back and forth over the bone that jutted out. "It's ok. It's gonna be fine. Let's just walk out there and walk to your car. Don't say anything, don't do anything, and remember I can speak and act for myself."

"What do you mean, 'you can speak and act for yourself'?" Santana could hear the sharp tone in her voice, but it was too late to pull back. Anger and a carafe of sake had gone to her brain and impaired her ability to think clearly.

"I know you. You want to protect me. Tonight, I don't need protecting. If one of them says something to either one of us, we just have to walk by, okay?"

"Whatever, let's go." She grabbed Brittany's hand and pulled her out of the door and onto the sidewalk. Her eyes hit the ground as she ducked her head and darted toward the car.

_Santana!_

_Ms. Lopez! Anything to say to the fans?_

_Brittany! Make a comment. _

_Santana! What do you say to people who won't buy your album now that you're a lesbian?_

_Where's the afterparty, ladies?_

_If either of you want a real man sometime, I'll always be close by!_

Santana's jaw clenched tightly as she raised her head and stopped in her tracks. Brittany continued walking, pulling Santana this time. "Please San. Let's just go."

She pulled her hand from Brittany's and paused, considering her options. "Whatever, man." She pulled the keys out of her pocket and continued walking, clicking the automatic locks for Brittany to climb in. Once in the car, she slowly pulled out, careful not to hit any of the photographers standing in front of the vehicle.

"Should we call the cops?" Brittany's voice was quiet, scared.

"Why? They're not going to be nice to us."

"Just to get these guys out of our way so we can move freely."

"No." Santana's jaw clenched itself again. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel.

After a few minutes, the paparazzi cleared.

"Want me just to take you back to your apartment?" Santana muttered, still gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Brittany turned to study her, pondering the right words. "No."

They sat in silence for the thirty minute ride to Santana's house, her knuckles gradually letting up the closer they got. As she turned off the engine, Santana stayed in the car. "Britt."

Her hand on the door handle, Brittany turned back to Santana.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry if...I don't know...I'm sorry if in the past I did things that you didn't want me to do. I've always wanted to protect you from what's bad out there." Santana's eyes gently looked up at her, her breath heavy and loud.

"I didn't say what I said to get you to apologize to me. I just want you to know that I'm a different Brittany. I don't always need to be protected. I'm pretty good at handling myself. In the past, I let you protect me and I was okay with that. And I'm still pretty okay with you protecting me now, but I'm also just as good at doing it myself."

Santana could feel tears well in her eyes as her heavy breathing continued. "I guess we really are doing something new."

"We're moving forward, San."

"I don't know if you're going to like the song that I wrote then."

"Is it a happy song, like I asked for?"

"Very."

"Then what's not to like?"

"Well, it's about our past."

"I'm not denying our past. There were some great moments in there. Moments that we should celebrate. It's a moment we should celebrate?"

"Yeah."

"Then I can't wait to hear it, babe. Come on inside. We can start a fire and you can play me your next big hit." She pulled Santana's hand into her own and kissed her palm, steadying her breath and calming her nerves.

The orange glow of the fire danced around the living room, warming the soft white linens of the couches and chairs, reflecting off of the dark wooden floor. Brittany, legs tucked beneath her, sat on one of the white couches facing the fire. Santana emerged a moment later from her bedroom with her guitar in hand, then sat gently next to Brittany on the couch. Her fingers nervously set the tattered notepad at her side, in case she forgot the new lyrics. Her breath quivered. She felt Brittany's hand rest on her knee.

"San...it's going to be great."

"I'm not really nervous about that right now."

"Oh." Brittany's eyes fell to the spot where her hand rested on Santana's blue jeans.

"This song is about our history. It's about one of our firsts. I'm not sure you know about this one though. Remember that night that I sang, 'When the Stars Go Blue'?"

Brittany nodded, her lower lip between her teeth.

"We kissed for the first time that night. But this song isn't about that. That day was like the first day of the rest of my life. I knew that day. I knew that I loved you and that you were it."

Brittany's hand tightened just above her knee. "Sing it," she whispered.

Santana's fingers plucked at the guitar. She leaned over to take one last look at the lyrics she'd scrawled on the notepad.

_This is the first day of my life  
>I swear I was born right in the doorway<br>I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed  
>They're spreading blankets on the beach<em>

_Yours is the first face that I saw_  
><em>I think I was blind before I met you<em>  
><em>Now I don't know where I am<em>  
><em>I don't know where I've been<em>  
><em>But I know where I want to go<em>

_And so I thought I'd let you know_  
><em>That these things take forever<em>  
><em>I especially am slow<em>  
><em>But I realize that I need you<em>  
><em>And I wondered if I could come home<em>

_Remember the time you drove all night_  
><em>Just to meet me in the morning<em>  
><em>And I thought it was strange you said everything changed<em>  
><em>You felt as if you'd just woke up<em>  
><em>And you said "this is the first day of my life<em>  
><em>I'm glad I didn't die before I met you<em>  
><em>But now I don't care I could go anywhere with you<em>  
><em>And I'd probably be happy"<em>

_So if you want to be with me_  
><em>With these things there's no telling<em>  
><em>We just have to wait and see<em>  
><em>But I'd rather be working for a paycheck<em>  
><em>Than waiting to win the lottery<em>  
><em>Besides maybe this time is different<em>  
><em>I mean I really think you like me<em>

Tears rolled gently down Brittany's cheeks. "It's beautiful."

Santana propped her guitar against the couch and tugged at Brittany's hand, pulling it into her own. Her other hand reached out and cupped Brittany's cheek, wiping away her tears.

"You're right. I do really like you."

"Despite our history?"

"Because of our history. It's a part of us and it has made us that much stronger, Santana."

Santana leaned forward, head resting against Brittany's forehead. "Britt," her breath tickled Brittany's face.

"San." Aside from the crackling of the fire, heavy breath filled the room. "I need to go home."

Santana's heart fell. It truly was a new day if Brittany wasn't falling all over her after a song.

Brittany clasped Santana's right hand the entire drive home. Even when she fell asleep, her hand firmly grasped Santana's, turning her knuckles white for another reason this time. Upon their arrival, Brittany slowly woke to find Santana's eyes on her, watching her wake.

"We're here."

"Thank you." Brittany shook off the sleep. "Thank you for an amazing second first date. And thank you for the happiest of love songs. I'm thinking this might be the first day of my life cause I could go anywhere with you and be happy." She leaned over and delicately placed her lips against Santana's flushed cheek.

"Goodnight, Santana."

"Goodnight, Brittany."

* * *

><p><em>Song by Bright Eyes. <em>


	2. Thalia

**MUSE**

_**Thalia**__ - was one of the nine Muses, the goddesses of music, song and dance. Her name was derived from the Greek word thaleia, meaning "rich festivity" or "blooming." In Classical times, when the Mousai were assigned specific artistic and literary spheres, Thaleia was named Muse of __**comedy**__ and bucolic poetry. In this guise she was portrayed with the attributes of comic mask, shepherd's staff and wreath of ivy._

"Ok, this one's _not _going on the album."

"Why not?"

"I was just messing around. It's got this whole mid '70s overproduced vibe. I can't put that up for the label."

"Just let me hear it."

"No way. A few of the guys from the band came over, we smoked a little, drank a little, listened to a little Foreigner and this song is the result. We were cracking up the entire time we were playing it. It's got a string backing, a horn solo, a canon. Britt, a freaking _canon?"_

"How did you make a cannon noise with your keyboard? It kind of sounds amazing, really."

"Not cannon like nautical warfare, Britt. Canon like repetition in music. It's never done except in cheesy '70s songs and kids songs."

"Like Frere Jacques?"

"Yeah."

"But I love that song!"

"It's not going to give me a Grammy."

"Please. I want to hear it."

"I have a top-secret gig tonight at that little place we used to go to in West Hollywood. One of those gigs just to test out audience reactions to new songs. We'll play it. I'm not going to do justice to just how bad it is if I'm solo. I need the full backing band. But Britt...?"

Brittany's eyes raised to meet Santana's, a giddy smile plastered on her face.

"Britt, this is not going on the album. We'll play it just for you and that's it."

Brittany just gave her a knowing smirk and pulled a calloused hand into her own. "I missed you."

Santana's fingers wriggled under her touch, stroking the soft underside of her palm. "Me, too. This feels so weird. We went from spending so much time together, to almost none, and now we're somewhere in the middle."

"Yeah, but it's for the best. We need to take things slow so that we can be the best us we can be." Brittany pulled her legs up onto her couch.

The living room felt much more lived-in than the last time Santana was over, months prior. If she took a minute to think about it, everything made sense. The only room she and Britt really used in Brittany's apartment was her bedroom and that was just when Santana's house was too far away for the night. Now, with Brittany living in her apartment full-time, there were blankets tossed haphazardly over the back of the couch, a few jackets had fallen off their hooks and onto the floor, and notes from dance routines were scattered on the coffee table. A sketch of some costumes rested atop the routines. Costumes most likely for whatever video Brittany was choreographing next.

"What's all this, Britt?"

"Oh, remember I told you I was working with that guy from your label? I'm choreographing his next video for him. My agent set it up so that if he likes it, I can sign on to choreograph two more singles and his tour. This video's got a tropical theme, so I put in some of those moves I saw when we went to Hawaii a few years ago. Remember that?" Brittany beamed with excitement as she looked over the scattered dance routines.

"Who is this guy, again?"

"You never asked before. It's Marco. You've heard of him, right?"

"Of course. The label's been all over him lately. Really? Marco?" Santana stared down at the floor.

"I know. So neat. He's an amazing dancer, too."

"That's great, Britt." Santana struggled against what she wanted to say and opted to keep it cool. "I'm sure you'll make him the best."

"Yeah," Brittany seemed in her own world, blathering on about her new job. "At work this week I was telling him about how jerky the label has been to you. I told him that they weren't sure that they were going to pick you up and you had to write a few songs and record demos before they would sign you on to a second album. I also told him about that amazing song you wrote and sang for me last week. Santana, he said he's looking to create his own label and would totally sign you without any songs because he knows that you're just that talented."

Brittany's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open in elation. Santana felt her jaw clench and her cheeks heat up. Through gritted teeth, she muttered, "You told him all of that?"

Brittany paused. She quickly realized that Santana was not as excited as she was. "I...shouldn't have."

"No, Britt," Santana's hand tore away from her own and gripped the arm of the couch, white-knuckled. "I tell you things that are just between us. My business, my career - that's just between us. The songs I write for you, until they get released - that's just between us. I thought you knew that?"

"You were so upset the other day." Santana could see tears welling in Brittany's eyes but she couldn't let her anger go quite yet. Her fists clenched and unclenched, her jaw locked firmly in place. "I just wanted to do something to help. I thought you'd want my help."

Santana exhaled deeply. She did want Brittany's help. Though this attempt was misguided, she didn't want to lose Brittany. "I do, Britt," she whispered softly, reaching up to wipe a tear from her face. "I just need for some stuff to be between us. I'm so proud of your new job and I'm so happy that you want to make me happy, but you have to let me try to figure it out first, okay?"

Brittany reached up to catch the hand stroking her cheek, then leaned down to rest her head on Santana's shoulder, tears staining the top of her shirt.

They woke a few hours later, rays from the setting sun showering Santana's face. She found Brittany resting beneath, fingertips stroking back and forth across the exposed skin between the hem of her t-shirt and the button of her jeans.

"You hungry?" Big blue eyes looked up at her own.

"Yeah," Santana yawned and stretched her arm behind Brittany, pulling her close.

"Let's get changed for dinner and your gig."

Dinner was on Brittany. She'd promised to take Santana to a quiet place, out of the way of the paparazzi. They sat on a secluded patio with just a few other couples. Dim candlelight echoed against the ivy-covered brick walls enclosing them. Paper lanterns rocked above them in the breeze.

"This is beautiful, Britt. How'd you find this place?" Santana's eyes radiated with the candlelight.

"Marco told me about it."

"You guys spend a lot of time together, huh?"

Brittany had heard this tone from Santana before. "It's not like that, San."

"Like what? I didn't say anything."

"Fine," Brittany said exasperatedly.

The food arrived just in time to prevent the conversation from heating up or awkward silences from dulling the evening. They ate in peace, occasionally willing the other to have a bite from her plate. The wine served to make the laughs come more quickly and the conversation lighten up. Santana's foot reached out to run up Brittany's bare leg and resulted in a loud choking noise across the patio.

"San!" She sputtered.

"Sorry, you're just irresistible." Santana paused for a moment. "I didn't mean to insinuate anything about Marco earlier, Britt. I'm just a little jealous of the amount of time he gets to spend with you."

"I'm glad you're being honest." She smiled and set down her fork. "This Santana - the Santana that lets her feelings come out for me, all her fears and everything- this is the girl I love."

The waiter arrived with coffee. Santana checked her watch.

"We should leave soon. After we finish coffee?"

"Yeah, ok. So tell me a little bit more about what I can expect from this new song tonight."

"It's a rather...untraditional song."

"Yeah we talked about that. Something about cannons, right? I'm gonna give my best 'Argh Matey' when I hear them."

"Britt..."

"I'm teasing. But really, I want to yell 'Argh Matey' at some point tonight." Brittany had a devilish grin plastered across her face.

"We can make that happen," Santana husked with a wink.

"Are pirates becoming a sexy thing between us? I'm not sure how that plastic Captain Hook hand is gonna play out in the bedroom, San."

Santana laughed at Brittany's concern. "Relax babe. No hooks in the bedroom." Her heart jumped as she thought about the chance to ruffle the sheets with Brittany once again. This conversation made her think it was closer than she'd previously thought. She envisioned Brittany dressed in pantaloons and a bandana, with gold hoop earrings and a hook over her hand and burst into a wide smile. "Definitely no hooks in the bedroom."

"Yeah, probably not." Brittany said seriously. "So, the song? It's a love song, right? Like we talked about."

"Well..."

"Santana," Brittany scolded as she set her coffee cup down. "We talked about this."

"Yeah. It's just an untraditional love song, like I was trying to say before."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I don't want to just give it away Britt. I think you'll like it, but it's silly. Cheesy silly. With a horns solo."

"Silly's like my middle name. I can't wait."

The club was lit only by a few dim stage lights and small tealight candles atop each table. Thanks to California smoking laws, it couldn't be considered smoky, though Santana's first gig ever, years earlier, nearly blew out her vocal chords with the amounts of smoke she'd had to contend with. The stage would be cramped with the whole band, but the songs she'd written varied so much that at times all she'd need was a guitar, but at other times, she'd need for seven guys to come out on stage and snatch up any instrument in sight. The crowd seemed completely unaware of the show they were in for. About half the tables were seated, a few people stood at the bar, their backs to the stage. Santana had called the manager, an old friend, a few days earlier to set everything up. The regularly scheduled gig would be pushed up an hour to make room for an hour's worth of play. This place was known to have the occasional secret celebrity show, so adding a show last minute like this would be sure to spark some interest.

Santana hadn't really gotten dressed up. This show wasn't supposed to be about appearances. She'd actually only changed clothes because Brittany had insisted that her worn and faded t-shirt and jean combo was inappropriate for the restaurant. Instead, she wore a black v-neck t-shirt from the Gap and some black straight-leg jeans with black flats. The audience would probably think they were playing death metal with all of the black she had on.

As she walked onto the stage, a dull mutter went across the club. Whispers of _Santana Lopez_ and _Who is that? _along with some more unsavory comments about sexuality and falling out of the music business filled the room. Santana took a seat and picked up her guitar. She wanted to start the evening with something old. Really old. Without saying a word, she ripped into the acapella start of "When the Stars Go Blue." At the first strum of the guitar, people sat back in appreciation. This was one of the first songs that Santana and her label had ever released. Santana had chosen to play this song on purpose. She wanted people on her side.

Brittany sat at a darkened, secluded table in the corner of the room on the second tier of seating. Her eyes watered as she thought back to the first time she'd heard the song - Santana's bedroom just before she'd confessed that she liked Brittany and the same night that they'd shared their first kiss.

The applause hit just as the song finished. Whistles and thunderous clapping hit Santana's ears and brought a shy smile to her face.

"Thank you." Her smile widened as the applause continued and a few people stood. "Thanks. My name is Santana Lopez and thanks for letting me play for you tonight. If you've heard anything by me before, I'm gonna try to mix some old stuff in, but I wanted to give you guys the chance to hear some of my new stuff as well. If you like the new stuff, let me hear it, if you don't, don't clap at all. I'm gonna bring the band on for this next one." The band shuffled out, setting themselves up behind their instruments. Once they were ready, Santana sat down to the piano and began pounding out a new song.

Brittany had never been able to resist Santana in her element. She looked down at the stage, Santana's eyes closed, brow wrinkled. She always played with such passion. And though it may have taken years to admit, Brittany knew that the passion was all for her. It warmed her.

Overall, the crowd seemed pleased with most of her songs. Santana knew that she'd get the most positive feedback on the songs that had already been released. She'd planned on playing "When the Stars Go Blue," "Your Song," and a jazzy remix of "Til the End of Time." Shouts to play "One and Only" went unheard. It was too emotional for her, especially with Brittany in the room. She didn't want to lose it in front of a bunch of strangers. Of the newer songs, "First Day of My Life" got the biggest applause. A few got just the standard polite claps from the audience. Those would have to be reworked. As promised, she decided to end the night with what Brittany was now calling "The Pirate Song."

"This is going to be the last song of the night." Santana pulled out a handkerchief to wipe sweat from her brow. "I need to tell you guys about this song, just so you understand how ridiculous it is." She turned toward the audience from her piano and spoke without the mic. "The band and I wrote this under the influence, to be sure. I've been told that I can only write love songs, which, you know, ok. I'm not too bad at writing love songs, especially with my muse," she shot a glance in Brittany's direction. "But, as an artist, writing only love songs starts to feel a little cheesy. This song is cheesy. I'm just going to apologize for it now. We were really feeling the '70s vibe as we wrote this. It's called 'Silly Love Songs.'"

Santana turned back toward her piano. The trumpet players lined up in the back, ready to jump in. Two keyboardists had set up while she talked, ready to chime in with the string orchestra sound. Microphones were set up for nearly every instrumentalist for the canon.

_You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs.  
>But I look around me and I see it isn't so.<br>Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs.  
>And what's wrong with that?<br>I'd like to know, 'cause here I go again_

Santana's eyes shot up to Brittany, a goofy grin plastered to her face.

_I love you, I love you,  
>I love you, I love you,<em>

_I can't explain the feeling's plain to me, say can't you see?_  
><em>Ah, she gave me more, she gave it all to me<em>  
><em>Now can't you see,<em>  
><em>What's wrong with that<em>  
><em>I need to know, 'cause here I go again<em>  
><em>I love you, I love you<em>

_Love doesn't come in a minute,_  
><em>sometimes it doesn't come at all<em>  
><em>I only know that when I'm in it<em>  
><em>It isn't silly, no, it isn't silly, love isn't silly at all.<em>

Horns solo. Santana sat back, bobbing her head and wriggling her shoulders.

_How can I tell you about my loved one?  
>How can I tell you about my loved one?<em>

_How can I tell you about my loved one?_  
><em>(I love you)<em>  
><em>How can I tell you about my loved one?<em>  
><em>(I love you)<em>

"Thanks everyone." Santana laughed as she waved out to the audience. Applause was scattered and confused. To Santana, the applause didn't matter, she knew this one would never be on the album. It was just a "Silly Love Song" and she was ok with that.

Brittany had found her way to the wing of the stage and squeezed her tightly as she walked off.

"Babe! I loved that so much!"

Santana squeezed back so hard she thought she might push all the air out of Brittany. Her heart pounded and her hands shook. She'd never felt more alive.

"I love you, Britt." She pulled her head back from the hug and continued squeezing the life out of Brittany's body as she planted a wet kiss on her lips. "I love you. I'm sorry for writing you a cheesy, silly love song."

"It was so great! Sometimes love songs have to be silly, you know? Though I was a little disappointed that I didn't hear a cannon in my pirate song."

Santana smiled from ear to ear. "Thanks for tonight."

"Thank you. It sounds like you're starting to get some good stuff together for the label."

"Yeah, I'm gonna rework a couple of those songs, but I'm thinking they'll like this stuff."

"I know they will," Brittany replied, ever the supportive girlfriend. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah," Santana said, a little deflated. Going home meant going back to Brittany's to get her car and drive home alone. Although she didn't want the night to end, she knew that it just wasn't time to take the next step. It was only their second date and, knowing Brittany, if she pushed something too quickly, she'd only be met by a scold and a reminder that they needed to do it right the second time around.

By the time they reached Brittany's house, Santana decided that maybe going for a goodnight kiss - something more than the little backstage peck - would be acceptable for a second date. She pulled Brittany's hand into her own as Brittany drove them home.

Back at Brittany's apartment, they leaned up against the outside of her car in the parking lot, willing the night to continue. With butterflies careening through her stomach, Santana slid her hand into Brittany's. Both too nervous to look up at one another, they kept their eyes on the stars.

"This was a perfect second date, Britt."

"Yeah, perfect."

"I'm glad that you liked my silly love song. I promise that there will be more love songs of the serious variety, too."

"Excellent."

Santana looked over at Brittany. Her eyes were closed and her lip between her teeth. "Where are you? What are you thinking about?"

Brittany opened her eyes. She was caught. She rolled her body to trap Santana's against the car, her hands resting on either side of Santana's shoulders. "I'm sorry I didn't say it back to you."

"Say what?" Santana's eyes met concerned blue eyes.

"That I love you." Brittany's eyes darted from Santana's brown eyes to her lips and back.

"In time. It's ok." Santana reached out to grip Brittany's hips.

"I do. It's just, I want this whole thing to feel brand new, so I want to save it."

"I get it. Really, Britt, it's ok. I was kind of caught up in the moment backstage and I just said it."

"Yeah, ok," Brittany's eyes fell to the ground.

"Hey," a hand slid up to tilt Brittany's head, forcing eye contact. "Would we be taking things too fast if I kiss you?"

Brittany looked down to her lips and smirked a little, then shook her head back and forth.

Santana leaned in and whispered "Good" against her lips. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, just before pressing lightly against Brittany's. She reached her hands back down to Brittany's hips and pulled in, pressing her lithe body against her own. With the added contact, Brittany opened her mouth in a tiny gasp. Softly, Santana parted her mouth, willing Brittany to take the next step. Her tongue pushed through and Santana's heart fluttered. Despite all attempts to make things feel brand new, Santana was glad that kissing Brittany would always be the same dose of perfection that they'd shared since they were young. When Brittany finally pulled back, she was sure she looked like an idiot, her lips still puckered and her eyes closed.

"Sorry, I got carried away." Brittany said shyly.

"Don't ever apologize for something like that, Britt."

Brittany smiled in return. "Goodnight, Santana."

"Goodnight, Brittany."


	3. Melpomene

_**Muse**_

"Melpomene"

_MELPOMENE was one of the nine Mousai (Muses), the goddesses of music, song and dance. In Classical times, when the Mousai were assigned specific artistic and literary spheres, Melpomene was named Muse of tragedy. In this guise she was portrayed holding a tragic mask or sword, and sometimes wearing a wreath of ivy and cothurnus boots. Her name was derived from the Greek verb melpô or melpomai meaning "to celebrate with dance and song."_

The celebration dinner was set for 8pm at Brittany's favorite fancy Italian restaurant. (Though Santana hoped that Brittany wouldn't try to reenact the Lady and the Tramp scene at a fine dining establishment.)

She had no idea what they would be celebrating. Brittany had called earlier in the afternoon out of breath and squealing, "We're celebrating! Pick me up tonight! We have reservations!" Though Santana couldn't completely calm her down, she got enough information out of her to know when and where to pick her up and what restaurant they would be going to so that she knew how to dress.

She took one last glance over her outfit before setting out for the evening. Her hair was pulled back into a loose, refined bun. Her eyes took on a smoky, sultry look with gray and black tones. She'd pulled out her favorite little black dress and red pumps.

Brittany had picked out those red pumps one day about two years ago as Santana sat in bed browsing through shoes online. Brittany had leaned over, touched the screen, and whispered in her ear, "Those. Sexy. Sophisticated. Sexy. Also, sexy." A few days later, when Santana got home from the recording studio, the shoes had already been unpacked and were sitting on the bed with a note: _Put these on now_. She could hear her bathroom door creak open and decided to play along with Brittany's game. She sat on the bed and took off her shirt and pants very slowly, trailing her fingers across her skin and pulling her hair out into a messy wave. She could almost hear Brittany's breath quicken as she spied on from the bathroom. When she finally stood with the pumps on and just her bra and lace underwear, Brittany burst out of the bathroom and immediately proceeded to remove the shoes she'd just been told to put on. As she looked down at her shoes, Santana hoped that they would make tonight as lucky as that night years ago.

The restaurant buzzed with a warm yellow light. Mahogany floors and cream and brown interiors flooded the room. Brittany's emerald dress sparkled against the neutral tones of the restaurant. Santana held up her glass of champagne.

"So what are we toasting to?"

"Well, remember I told you that I've been working with Marco?"

Santana nodded.

"He liked the video I did..."

"That's amazing, Britt. Cheers!" Santana's face forced a smile as she raised her glass and moved it toward Brittany's.

"That's not it, San. I got signed to be his full-time choreographer! He's got two more singles due out and a world tour in a few months."

The smile quickly fell from Santana's face. Her mouth stood agape. She gulped, then furrowed her eyebrows into a grimace. "What? We didn't talk about this."

"Just before we went out to dinner last time, I told you that if he liked my work, he would sign me. I told you, Santana." Brittany's face began to flush in frustration. Santana's brain churned as she attempted to recall the moments before their last dinner together. Santana remembered the conversation. They were on Brittany's couch and she had been caught up with the fact that Brittany had told Marco that she'd been struggling with the label. She'd been so frustrated that Brittany was sharing her personal business that must have missed this now-important piece of news.

"You're right. Sorry. Here's to your new job with Marco, Britt. Congratulations." Santana gave a sad smile as she clinked glasses with Brittany.

The food came out. After a few _oohs_ and _ahhs _for the entrees the conversation switched to Santana.

"What did your manager think of your two new songs?" Brittany asked between bites.

"He liked them a lot. He took those two to the label, though, and the label's reaction was a bit different."

"What? Why didn't you tell me that the label heard those songs? What did they think?" Brittany was surprised. Santana had been keeping her up to date about label-related news with texts and phone calls a few times a day.

"Because of the label's reaction, Britt." Santana put down her fork and took a sip of water before continuing. "They said that they were really surprised by the change in tone of my songs. I think they wanted some more dance songs, or pop numbers, but I'm just not feeling that right now. I feel like I'm not going to be able to give them what they want."

"You have plenty of songs that aren't pop." Anger infused into Brittany's voice as she brandished her fork. "That's not fair. Do you think they're just being jerks because of what happened?"

Santana wore a sad expression. "I don't know. It doesn't matter one way or another why they like or dislike me. Even if my songs were amazing, they could still reject me for some stupid reasons."

Brittany put her fork down and reached her hand across the table to stroke Santana's arm. "Your songs _are_amazing and if they let you go then you'll have a million other labels lined up to take you in. You're a freaking Grammy winner, Santana."

Santana smiled shyly. "Thanks Britt." Her fingers curled up and pressed into Brittany's palm, rubbing softly.

They sat in silence as they finished dinner, Santana making quick work of her fish, while Brittany slurping the last of her pasta.

"What do you say we skip dessert and go back to my house for a nightcap, Britts?" Santana smirked as her cheeks heated up. The greens of Brittany's dress caught the color of her eyes perfectly in the light and captured Santana. She felt her stomach flutter.

"I think I can manage a nightcap." She winked and leaned across the table, drawing Santana in closer. "Maybe even a morning cap," she whispered into Santana's ear.

Santana looked up, into her eyes, and pulled back quickly. "Ok I'll get the check," she said hurriedly.

"Thanks for dinner, Santana. I really just can't believe how things are coming together. We're doing really well with this dating thing. I have this new amazing job. Marco is just the most generous guy ever to work for."

"Yeah, it's pretty great." Santana smiled crookedly, her mind not able to agree with things coming together quite so perfectly in her own life. A few moments of silence passed as Santana's brain churned. Brittany studied her, hoping to read her mind somehow.

"Britt?" Something was on Santana's mind. Brittany could tell by the way she chewed at her cheek and the way she hadn't fully smiled since Brittany made her announcement earlier in the evening.

"Yeah?"

"Does this mean that you're not going to work with me any more?" She continued to bite at the inside of her cheek, her eyes darting from Brittany's eyes to her mouth, down to the table, and back up.

"Well, you said that you're not really writing any dance songs."

"I might still."

"Maybe it's time," she started slowly. It was Brittany's turn to look worried. Santana's face had shifted from worry to anger in an instant with the utterance of those first three words. "...for us to separate our careers and our personal lives."

"Were we going to talk about this, or were you just going to make this decision yourself?" Santana was venomous. Rarely did her famed ire direct at Brittany.

"It's just..." Brittany hadn't expected to have this conversation. She felt like she was figuring out her future and sharing it with Santana in the same instant. Usually, she thought for hours (sometimes days) on end before making such a life changing decision. And yet she was still conveying what she knew she'd wanted all along, whether she'd acknowledged it or not. "This is what's best for me. And for us, I think."

"I don't think that you get to decide what's best for us." Santana's voice was a harsh whisper. Her jaw jutted out and just as she finished, she clenched her teeth down in frustration.

A gentleman in a suit delivered the check, cutting off the rest of the heated conversation just in time.

"Ladies." He nodded at Brittany, then Santana. "Ms. Lopez, we wanted to thank you for your patronage by providing this meal free of charge. Unfortunately, though, I have some bad news, as well. Somehow, the media has gotten wind of your arrival. There is a small group of photographers outside."

"What the hell!" Santana exhaled as she slowly closed her eyes. The night had started with the possibility of fireworks and had crashed down before her eyes.

"I'd suggest allowing the valet to bring your car around to our back entrance, where you maybe be able to get out without notice."

"Fine. How soon can the car be here?"

"Two minutes."

Santana nodded as she searched through her purse to check her phone.

"Maybe we should skip the nightcap." Brittany's voice was small and quiet.

Santana looked past her, at the valet rushing out the door as she muttered, "I was going to suggest the same thing."

They'd made it safely into the car without notice. Santana's hands relaxed around the wheel as she pushed the car into drive. Brittany sunk into Santana's leather seats and stared out at the city lights. What had started as a day of celebration and excitement had ended in a head full of questions as she reconsidered her decision to sign full-time with Marco and she wondered if Santana had been right about her decision-making.

It seemed like they'd made it safely out sight of the restaurant without being spotted by the paparazzi. Santana checked the mirrors religiously just the same, searching for the possibility of camera flashes or cars on her bumper. One hand gripped the steering wheel tightly while the other nervously ran through the bun she'd let down after dinner. Brittany appeared frozen in place in the passenger's seat, head swiveled so that Santana could only see the back of her head as she stared out the window. Santana cursed herself for unleashing her anger on Brittany, but she still couldn't let go of the resentment she felt toward Brittany making decisions about what would be best for them as a couple.

When they parked in her apartment complex parking lot, Brittany opened the door and quietly got out. She paused as she stood outside the door, running her own hand through her hair. "Goodnight," she whispered, barely audible.

Santana, with time to cool off, quietly responded, "Night. Congratulations." The car door closed. She watched as Brittany sadly walked back through her apartment door. She felt tears fill her eyes as she thought about the course of the night. It was not supposed to go this way. Their "new" relationship was not supposed to go this way. This time, Santana didn't feel the weight of regret and blame hanging so heavily over herself. She cried harder. At least when she was at fault, she thought, she was also in charge of fixing it.

The tears had run dry by the time she'd reached home. She threw open the living room glass doors to listen to the ocean waves crash against the shore below. It was her favorite calming sound. In her bedroom, she threw her dress and shoes across the room and slid into a pair of sweats and a tour t-shirt.

Happy love songs be damned. Her life was a series of tragedies and her best music was often some of her saddest. She sat on the balcony, notepad in hand. She wanted to write a song that conveyed sadness with a tinge of hope. She still felt the tiniest bit of hope for the relationship. It was an unsure hope, but a hope just the same - a hope rooted somewhere deep within the fear of change.

At six o'clock in the morning, Santana had her next single. This would be a hit. She couldn't undo it now. She couldn't take it back because it wasn't a happy song. The label, she knew, would like this one.

For a half hour after, she wrestled with whether to call Brittany. Lately, she'd been sharing her new songs with Brittany within just hours of finalizing them. But those songs were "Brittany songs" - happy songs. And, she hadn't had a fight as vicious as the previous night's fight. Finally, at 6:30, her mind grew tired and she dialed Brittany's number.

"What's wrong?" Brittany voice cracked like she'd just woken up, but she sounded concerned. Santana glanced at the clock and realized just how early it was.

"I didn't mean to wake you. Sorry, I'll call later." Her voice was soft, regretful.

"No, no. What's up?"

"I wanted to make up for last night. I ruined your celebration. Can I have a redo?" She could only hear Brittany's slow breathing over the phone. Somewhere in the night, she'd realized that although Brittany made a decision that she didn't like, she was responsible for choosing to react in an angry way. For that, she could apologize and possibly fix things. "Please, Britt. I want to make you your favorite."

"Gummy pancakes?" Santana could hear the excitement spilling out over the phone.

"Yep. And, I got chocolate chips, powdered sugar, and pancake syrup."

"Ok, I'm leaving now."

Although the promise of a nightcap had been ruined last night, strangely the "morning-cap" was still on the table. Santana busied herself with cleaning up from her all-night work session and pulling out Brittany's favorite sugary ingredients. (She was, after all, the girl who thought Dr. Pepper was a dentist-approved product.)

For the first hour, it felt almost exactly like a Sunday morning in high school. Messy, slightly greasy hair spilled onto ratty t-shirts. Sweatpants collected dust as the legs dragged across the floor. The house flooded with fits of giggles as powdered sugar erupted into a cloud above their heads. Santana would flip a pancake and Brittany would swoop in and tickle her sides until she had to throw out the just-burned pancake and start fresh.

After the sugar high, they crashed onto the couch, Brittany pulling Santana into her arms and gently kissing her forehead.

"This was a perfect morning-cap, San," she whispered against her forehead.

"Thanks, Britt. Thanks for coming. I'm sorry I messed up last night. I'm really happy for you. You deserve everything and I'm glad that your dreams are coming true." Santana's breath echoed off of Brittany's neck as she spoke.

"Remember that my dream came true already - when I got you." Brittany poked her nose on the last word.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah."

For a while, Brittany thought that Santana had fallen asleep. Her breath had evened out and her body was almost frozen in place. A quiet whisper against her neck let her know otherwise.

"I wrote another song last night."

Brittany almost threw her off the couch. "What? Oh my gosh, Santana, why didn't you tell me when I got here? Play it." She pushed at Santana to get up, until they were both in a seated position.

Santana turned back toward Brittany, but looked down at the space of the couch between them. "You're not going to like it."

"Why would you say that?" She pulled Santana's fingers between her own.

"I was really sad last night, Britt. It's not the type of song you wanted me to write."

"Oh, babe. You have been singing since we were eight years old - telling me how to dance in the background while you belted out your notes. You have a degree in music from one of the best music schools in the country. You have a record deal with one of the top three labels in the industry. And you have a Grammy. A Grammy, Santana. Yeah, I prefer happy songs because I'm a happy person. But, you've written song after amazing song without any input from me. I'm not mad."  
>She pulled Santana's hand up to her lips and kissed each knuckle. "Will you play it for me please?"<p>

The biggest reason that Santana knew that this would be a big hit was because she didn't need her notepad to play this one. It was in her already. She sat down behind the piano.

_This year's love had better last  
>Heaven knows it's high time<br>And I've been waiting on my own too long  
>But when you hold me like you do<br>It feels so right  
>I start to forget<br>How my heart gets torn  
>When that hurt gets thrown<br>Feeling like you can't go on_

_Turning circles when time again_  
><em>It cuts like a knife oh yeah<em>  
><em>If you love me got to know for sure<em>  
><em>Cause it take something more this time<em>  
><em>Than sweet sweet lies<em>  
><em>Before I open up my arms and fall<em>  
><em>Losing all control<em>  
><em>Every dream inside my soul<em>  
><em>And when you kiss me<em>  
><em>On that midnight street<em>  
><em>Sweep me off my feet<em>  
><em>Singing ain't this life so sweet<em>

_This year's love had better last_  
><em>This year's love had better last<em>

_So who's to worry_  
><em>If our hearts get torn<em>  
><em>When that hurt gets thrown<em>  
><em>Don't you know this life goes on<em>  
><em>And won't you kiss me<em>  
><em>On that midnight street<em>  
><em>Sweep me off my feet<em>  
><em>Singing ain't this life so sweet<em>

_This year's love had better last_  
><em>This year's love had better last<em>  
><em>This year's love had better last<em>  
><em>This year's love had better last<em>

She closed her eyes and stayed at the piano, letting it sink in. "I'm worried about us, Britt." It was barely a whisper. She feared that she'd have to repeat herself. She heard a choked sob from behind her and turned. Brittany's head was in her lap, pressed between her knees. Her body shook uncontrollably.

Santana sat down next to her on the couch and wrapped her arm around her. Brittany sat up and pressed her face into Santana's side. "Me, too, Santana. What's going on with us?"

"I'm scared, Britt. Things feel so different. I feel like I'm losing control. I feel like I'm losing you."

"Why do you think that, Santana?" She pulled back, tears still brimming from her eyes as she looked at Santana.

"You're going to be working with him and...I don't know...it hurts. You're mine. It hurts to hear about you and him."

"Is that what...is that what last night's fight was really about? I've never been the one who hurts people, Santana." The tears had frozen on her face.

"Britt, I didn't mean it like that. Shit. I don't know. Just forget it." Santana's eyes closed as she tried to will away her last few statements.

"It's a job, Santana. Who's sitting in front of you, right now? Who's here, this early in the morning, even after we had a terrible fight last night? Who's been willing to hold on through everything, Santana?" She let her questions sink in for a moment.

"Things are changing with us, Britt. It's scary. I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of losing you. We don't talk some days. I only see you like once or twice a week. We haven't had sex in what feels like years. I'm practically a virgin again. When I see you, I'm not sure if I'm even allowed to kiss you..."

Brittany cut Santana off with her lips. The kiss was forceful and passionate. It fogged Santana's mind and froze her hands by her side.

With closed eyes, Brittany rested her forehead against Santana's as they caught their breath. "Were things perfect between us before, Santana?"

"No."

"Then change needs to happen. We've talked about this before and I feel it. I feel change happening in a good way. I need you to let go of that worry. I need you to feel it, too." She felt Santana's tears hit the hand in her lap. She reached her palm up to cup Santana's cheek and swipe the tears away with her thumb.

"Look at me." Dark, full eyelashes fluttered open, tickling Brittany's cheek. "This year's love, Santana, _is going to last_. Open up. Let go. Let me love you."

Santana could only nod.

* * *

><p><em>Song by David Gray. <em>


	4. Erato

**MUSE**

_**ERATO**__ was one of the nine __Muses,__ the goddesses of music, song and dance. Her name means "the lovely" or "beloved" from the Greek word __eratos__. In Classical times, when the Muses were assigned specific artistic spheres, she was named Muse of erotic poetry and mimic imitation and represented holding a lyre._

* * *

><p>As expected, her manager fell for "This Year's Love" immediately. In fact, he'd called it the next "One and Only." Of course, Santana had predicted it. The song had just the right mixture of angst and hope, with an indie pop edge. Her manager had actually coined that term for her - "indie pop edge." Rather than straight-up pop, that would be the new approach for the label. No more dance tunes, a lot more ballads. Now that Brittany was Marco's full-time choreographer and not her own, the idea of writing a dance song just wasn't sitting well with her anyway.<p>

Although it was tempting to run to the label straight away with "This Year's Love," she wanted to sit on it, let it linger in the air, add to it, subtract from it. She also wanted to put together at least one more song for the label to hear. Somewhere between five to seven tracks, she knew they'd make their decision about resigning her - if they hadn't secretly decided already.

The hopeful edge of "This Year's Love" drifted through her mind as she scrawled and scratched notes and lyrics in her notepad. Waves crashed against the shore below and a yellow fog light idled on the darkened horizon.

At some point early in the morning, she woke with crumpled paper at her feet and the seam of a pillow stamped into the side of her face. Still not a decent lyric written. Her mind wandered to her beautiful muse, Brittany. Her number was dialed before she realized she had the phone in her hand.

"Hi!" It was early, 5am and still before sunrise, and Brittany was practically chirping into the phone. Santana's head pounded for lack of decent sleep.

"Hi. I'm stuck."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't write anything."

"What do they call that? There's a name for it...block something. Is it cock block?"

"Britt!" Santana tiredly chuckled. "No babe. Close, I guess. Writers' block."

"Oh. Yeah that was close."

"What do you have going on today? Think I can see you?"

"I don't know, Santana. My yoga class is in about an hour. Then, I have to be at the dance studio at nine for backup dancer auditions. In the afternoon, Marco and I are going to sit down to plan out some of the choreography for the tour. Honestly, I think I'm going to be too tired after all of that to do anything."

"Well, we don't have to do anything, Britts. We can pop in some Sweet Valley High, like the old times, and just get our sweet lady kisses on." Her voice was quiet and hopeful.

"I don't know. What about tomorrow? I don't have anything in the afternoon or the evening. Can we do that instead?"

Santana's heart dropped. Spontaneity and excitement felt dead. The hopeful heat she'd felt in the pit of her stomach remained, but served only to taunt her with her inability to have Brittany like she once did.

"I guess. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Hey," the tone in her voice had given Brittany pause. "We're taking it slow, remember."

"I got it, Britt." There was an edge to Santana's voice that Brittany hadn't heard in a while. "I'll call you tomorrow," she repeated with the same strained tone.

The combination of sleep depravity and sexual longing was really what was getting to her. It had been months since she'd been intimate with Brittany, though truth be told, it had been much longer since they'd had a positive, loving encounter. Santana tried to remember their last time together. It was in some nameless hotel room, a practiced routine before a show, a secret. It was muffled and restrained. It was unfeeling.

Santana awoke a few hours later, fresh from her dreams, yet with a tepid warmth brewing inside for Brittany. Talking about sex, singing about it even, had never been something she was comfortable with, for obvious reasons. She had publicly been in the closet for years. Any song about sex would have been a lie - a man's scratchy face and rough hands. She would have rather sung about soft lips, piercing blue eyes, and smooth skin.

Still in her pajamas, she sat down at the piano, mind on Brittany and the longing she felt inside. She needed a song that voiced everything she wanted - no needed - from Brittany. Fears of the past be damned, the yearning, the hunger, the insatiable need she had was too strong.

She set out a slow rhythm on the piano.

_Love me, love me_  
><em>Say you do<em>

_Let me fly away _  
><em>With you<em>

_We are creatures of the wind_  
><em>Wild is the wind<em>

_Give me more than one caress_  
><em>Satisfy this hungriness<em>

She felt the power of persuasion in those words. If she could just allow herself to open up, she could fly away. She could be freed to truly experience the love she'd felt with Brittany on the night of their official first date, all those years ago in New York City. Their "It's better with feelings" night, when Santana realized that it truly was better. She didn't know how she'd regressed.

_We are creatures of the wind  
>Wild is the wind<em>

_You touch me _  
><em>I hear the sound of mandolins baby<br>You kiss me  
>With your kiss my life begins<em>

_Life a leaf clings to the tree  
>Baby please cling to me<em>

Despite their recent arguments, Santana's flame for Brittany still burned strong. The kisses they'd shared recently, although few and far between, had served to fuel a flame that had been ignited many, many years ago. Each kiss doused the flame in recent weeks, burning it stronger. And yet, Santana felt so uneasy. Brittany seemed so restrained. She wanted Brittany to cling to her, like she once had.

_We are creatures of the wind_  
><em>Wild is the wind<em>

_You touch me_  
><em>I hear the sound of mandolins<em>  
><em>And you kiss me<em>  
><em>With your kiss my life begins<em>

_Love me, love me_  
><em>Say you do<em>

_Let me fly away with you_

This song would get no revisions. It was perfect. It was private. So private, in fact, Santana didn't want to share it with Brittany. It felt too revealing. And she was too hurt by Brittany's restraint. And by Brittany's choice to make big decisions without consulting her. They may be taking it slow, she thought, but that didn't erase the fact that they'd been in each others' lives for more than ten years and they told one another everything.

She tapped out and erased the message about fifteen times before she sent it.

_We need to talk tonight. I'll come to you, if I you want me to, but it has to happen tonight. _

The wait nearly killed her. She tried to go on a run, but ended up jogging about a mile before turning around and coming back to check her phone. She tried a nap, but thought only of Brittany's face hovering above her own, strands of blonde hair tickling her cheeks and nose.

Close to dinnertime, Brittany texted back.

_I'm not far from you. Is now ok?_

Immediately, Santana felt relief. Soon, though, the feeling was taken over by an immense wash of anxiety. She had always planned ways to get what she wanted from Brittany - quiet song in the darkness of her room, a serenade in the dance studio, a dedication at a recital. She had no plans. This was going to be a disaster. She fumbled with her fingers, brainstorming a plan for winning Brittany into her bed. In what seemed like minutes, a knock echoed through the house.

"Hi, what's wrong?" Brittany's hair was pulled into a sloppy bun, her body covered with dance rehearsal spandex. Santana licked her lips as she admired the curves and tone of Brittany's body. "Santana!" Brittany's hand and sharp tone startled her out of her appreciation.

"I wanted to talk."

Brittany pushed passed her and dropped onto the couch. "What couldn't wait until tomorrow night?"

"I...I'm having all...these feelings, Britt. I'm so confused and I just need to talk about them with you. And some of them you really aren't going to like, but you said you wanted to see that side of me, so..."

Brittany's face relaxed from frustration to concern. "I do, babe. What's going on?" She reached out and pulled Santana by the hand into the seat next to her. Her fingers continued to stroke Santana's.

"I'm not sure where to start. There's a lot and they're getting all mixed up. Shit, maybe this wasn't a good idea." Panic rose in Santana's eyes.

"Hey, no, I'm here. Say what you need to say, Santana. We can figure things out." Brittany moved her free hand up to stroke Santana's cheek and pulled her into eye contact.

"More than anything else, I'm angry." Ashamed tears hit Santana's eyes as she looked away. While the anger had boiled inside of her earlier, face to face with Brittany she couldn't hold onto her anger. Though she knew that had Brittany not been there, the feeling would have quickly bubbled to the surface again.

"About the Marco thing?" Brittany's brow scrunched into confusion.

"Sorta. I'm probably most angry that you just went and did something that affects us both without even talking to me about it."

"You're talking about signing to be his choreographer?"

"Yeah babe," Santana looked back into her eyes and let go of her restraint. "Look, I know you want to start fresh and everything, but that can't erase all this time that we've been best friends and telling one another everything. That can't erase that with your dancing, you helped me build my career. I was in the middle of writing an album - one that could have been filled with dance songs - and it feels like you abandoned me."

"I'm still here, sitting next to you, listening to you." Confusion was still etched on her face.

"But I used to have that other part of you, too. The professional part that only Marco has."

"I just think it's better if I keep us and my job separate, though, Santana. One of our problems before was that we'd get into fights and then we'd have to see one another for work and everything would explode. Remember all those tour dates when we were fighting and your fans were demanding refunds because you were such a mess on stage?"

"Maybe you're right, that things would be better if we keep them separate, but that's not even my argument, Britt." Santana's voice pitched up as she felt frustration. "More than anything else, I'm angry that we never even sat down to talk about it. And I feel like you decided not to talk to me about it because we're trying to start fresh, but I think it's impossible to start fresh. There's so much history with us that I can't forget everything we've been through. If this were the old us, you would have come to me and talked to me about Marco and we would have made a decision that was good for both of us. Together."

Brittany looked over the back of the couch, out of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. The sun had begun to set, washing the living room with purples and oranges and reds. Her jaw clenched, then opened, stretching out. Her breathing was heavy and irregular. Santana looked back at her face, studying her, trying to predict a reaction.

It felt like an hour of silence had passed before Brittany spoke. Her voice was quiet. "I'm sorry."

Santana wanted to push it. She wanted to figure out exactly what Brittany was sorry for, whether she would have taken back her decision, whether Marco was really worth Santana being so angry. Instead, she settled for 'sorry.' The drama of the past few weeks - the drama of starting over - had been enough. She wanted to feel less on edge and for now, after Brittany's apology, she settled back into the couch and breathed a little easier.

"What else, Santana?" Brittany quietly asked. "You said 'more than anything else,' so there's something else. Some other feeling. What is it?"

"Nothing." She knew exactly what it was, but following such a serious conversation, it felt inconsequential to bring up. "Never mind."

"No, I told you that this was the Santana that I wanted. I want you to tell me what you're thinking. Please."

"Really, Britt, I can't talk about it." A flush crept up Santana's neck, to her cheeks. She pulled her hand from Brittany's and absentmindedly ran it through her hair.

"Santana..." Brittany grabbed the hand back and squeezed.

"Fine." She took a deep breath and looked away. "It's been so long. I need you."

"What do you mean? I'm right here..."

Before she could finish, Santana nearly pounced on top of Brittany, pushing her into the couch and pushing her body into Brittany's. Her lips pressed hard against Brittany's. The kiss was chaste and awkward in its first moments, the result of such a surprise attack. Slowly, Santana deepened the kiss, tugging Brittany's bottom lip into her own and sliding her tongue against Brittany's. Forgetting to breathe, she pulled back and looked down at Brittany. "I need you," she whispered.

Brittany could only nod and whisper, "Bedroom."

Santana pulled her off of the couch and led her by the hand into her bedroom. It was a scene played over hundreds of times before and yet so different. There was a fluttering nervousness in Santana's stomach, a dryness to her mouth, and a sheen of sweat already coating her skin.

When they reached the bedroom, Santana's eyes were panicked. They darted from the bed to Brittany and to the floor. Her chest constricted and she couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a breath. Brittany looked to be in nearly the same state - her mouth slightly ajar, her cheeks and ears flushed crimson colored.

"I don't know why I'm so nervous." Santana finally choked out as her eyes met Brittany's. They sat on the edge of the bed, facing one another.

"I think..." Brittany's voice was just a whisper. "I think it's because this is what it's supposed to feel like. It feels like our first time."

Santana chuckled nervously, "I hope I'm better than our first time, Britt."

"You know what I mean."

Santana leaned in close and whispered against Brittany's mouth, "Like our first time, but better." Brittany leaned the rest of the way and kissed Santana tentatively, soft lips against soft lips. Her fingers reached behind Santana's head, trailing down to her neck, where she lightly let her fingertips dance across Santana's sensitive skin - one of Santana's favorite spots. A gasp slipped out of her mouth at the feeling of Brittany's fingers trailing against the nape of her neck.

She pushed Brittany onto the bed and pulled her t-shirt off, willing Brittany to do the same with her skimpy spandex attire. When both of their upper bodies were exposed, Santana made a move that she knew would drive Brittany crazy. Pressing bare skin against bare skin, she trailed her fingers from just beneath Brittany's backside, up over the front of her thighs, and danced to her bellybutton. A sharp intake of breath released from below her as Brittany pushed up into her.

At that moment, Brittany's thigh pressed up against Santana's center and she felt embarrassingly like Finn Hudson - ready to explode without any restraint. She pulled back, unwilling to let things end too soon, and trailed kisses down Brittany's exposed stomach. It took a moment to pull off Brittany's spandex pants, but in time, Santana's mouth was hovering above Brittany's center.

"Don't tease, San." Brittany whined as she felt Santana's breath on her thighs. It was another one of Santana's favorite moves - to hover above Brittany, taking in the glisten against her sensitive skin, as Brittany's hips rocked fruitlessly in the air, seeking contact.

Santana's head trashed from side to side as her tongue swiped delicately through Brittany's exposed center. Her nose and chin dampened against Brittany, as she thrashed Santana between her hips. What started as a quiet hitch in her breathing changed to gentle moans and then a full-on chant of unintelligible mutterings. Santana's head was firmly between her thighs, muting anything coming from Brittany's mouth, yet the gyration of her hips was enough to let Santana know that she was close. So she stopped.

Brittany nearly shouted in frustration as she saw Santana's sticky face rise from between her legs.

"I just needed to see your face." It was a line that Brittany usually loved. She lived on eye contact and feelings. Santana figured she would prefer the sex with feelings too, and being buried in the abyss of Brittany's muscled thighs was not allowing for any eye contact. And yet, Brittany didn't seem pleased by Santana's decision. Her hips continued to rock deftly against Santana's thigh as she climbed up Brittany's body.

"I need you. Now." Brittany muttered between clenched teeth as her hand grabbed Santana's and forcefully slid it between their bodies. As Santana's fingers slipped into Brittany, she pressed her forehead against Brittany's, catching a moan that escaped from her mouth with a searing kiss. She pulled back again as she worked her fingers inside, watching as Brittany's face twitched and her eyes watered - a sure sign that she was close.

At that moment, Santana decided to forget about her own restraint. The climactic look on Brittany's face, the way her hips had lost control, the way her eyes seared into Santana's soul; she pressed her own hips down and rocked against the back of her hand. Feeling Brittany's thrusts lose control, Santana allowed herself release, pumping her hips once, twice, three times and holding herself against Brittany. Their eyes closed for a moment in ecstasy, their bodies strained and moving of their own volition.

Santana's heartbeat slowly returned to normal. Her breath echoed off of Brittany's neck, her face just inches from Brittany's glistening skin. She thought she felt Brittany's face turn toward hers. Then a kiss on her forehead. She may have heard a whisper from Brittany. _I love you_. But her body was wracked with exhaustion and she slipped into a dream state.

When she woke, night had fallen, but she wasn't sure exactly of the time. As her tired eyes opened, she saw Brittany's eyes shine in the moonlight, meeting her own.

"I wanted things to be different. I was tired of being hurt."

Santana was reminded of their earlier conversation. Of Brittany's apology. "And you had a right to be..."

"Let me finish, please. I was tired of being hurt and I wanted to feel in control of making things right. Everyone always says that taking things slow will make it better. I wanted to try that."

"And?" Santana looked across the sheets at Brittany.

"With each of our dates, I was waiting for things to feel better, but I could never really tell if they did. But after tonight, I feel so much better."

"Me, too, Britts."

"I love you, Santana. Rather than try to do this or that in our relationship, let's just do what feels right. I promise I won't try to make us something we're not any more."

"I love you, too, Britt. And I promise I'll do more to make it better with feelings."

* * *

><p><em>Cat Power,<em> _"Wild is the Wind."_


	5. Terpsichore

_**MUSE **_

_TERPSICHORE was one of the nine Muses, the goddesses of music, song and dance. In late classical times, when the Muses were assigned specific literary and artistic spheres, Terpsichore was named Muse of choral song and dancing, and represented with a plectrum and lyre._

"I think we just need one more song, Santana. Give me just one more and we can make our move." Her manager sighed. It had been a long day. They'd wrapped "This Year's Love" earlier in the evening. Her manager had dropped into the studio to listen to the final product somewhere close to midnight. Santana had nearly forgotten how much work went into the production end of creating a song. She wrote the song, tapped out the melodies on her guitar or piano, and then handed it over to the producer. The producer took the song and created it into a single. Rhythm set in with a few drum tracks, a backing symphony amped the emotion, and Santana often provided her own harmonies to be set over top of her melody. It was exhausting, but it had finally wrapped successfully.

"Ok, I'll be working on that last one. What do you say you set up a meeting for next week? I work better on deadlines anyway." She pushed her hand through her hair as she called back to her manager across the parking lot.

"You got it. Call me when you get that last song written, okay?"

"Will do. Goodnight." She climbed into her car and her mind set toward the next day's schedule. Even without a tour, it felt like each day was packed to the brim with engagements, appearances, and time set aside for writing. At least, she thought, tomorrow was not about her. She welcomed the spotlight facing away from her.

Following their arguments over Brittany's new job and her professional relationship with Marco, Brittany had invited Santana to come to the set to visit. At first, Santana had declined. She didn't want it to seem like she was visiting to "check-in." With their last date and the return of the "I love yous," she'd felt her mind rest more easily. Instead, she decided, she'd visit Brittany when she was sure that she'd appreciate Brittany's new position and she could share in her new professional success.

"Hi Britt." It was late, but for every day that they didn't see one another, they called one another. She knew that Brittany was waiting for her call.

"Hi, babe. How does the song sound?" Brittany's voice was quiet. She sounded like she was ready for bed.

"Really good. I'll email it to you tomorrow." Santana pulled into her driveway. She decided to sit in her car, not wanting to interrupt her conversation with Brittany with a bunch of slammed doors.

"You're still coming tomorrow, right?"

"What's tomorrow?" Santana smirked, but tried to keep quiet.

"Saaan. You said you would come to the set. You put it into your calendar. I watched you put it into your calendar..."

"I'm just kidding, Britt. God, you're so easy when you're sleepy. I've been looking forward to it all week. Of course I'll be there." She heard Brittany let out a loud breath. She could almost hear Brittany's eyes rolling.

"Ok, good."

"I know you're sleepy, so I'll let you go. I can't wait to see you dance tomorrow."

"I can't wait to dance for you."

Santana's breath caught. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Goodnight, San."

"Goodnight."

…

Zipping up her hoodie, Santana recognized that today would be a rare opportunity. The last time she'd seen Brittany dance and she hadn't been performing alongside of her had perhaps been way back in high school when she'd chosen not to perform with the Glee Club. That day almost didn't count. She was so much inside of her own head back in high school that she couldn't have possibly given Brittany's talents the appreciation they deserved.

The warehouse of the video shoot was on a studio lot across town. There were scads of scantily clad dancers, wearing bikinis and leis. How original this Marco guy must be, Santana thought sarcastically, to go for a Hawaiian theme with a bunch of beautiful girls surrounding him. She wasn't quite sure where to go and every blonde, leggy dancer made her double take in her search for Brittany. She dug her hands further into her hoodie and continued her search.

"Scene five set up. Shooting in five." An announcement rang out over the set.

"Ms. Lopez?" Santana spun around to find a skinny young man with a headset and clipboard nervously looking back. "Ms. Lopez, I'm Ms. Pierce's assistant. She said you'd be arriving soon. If you will, come this way, please."

Santana tried to think back to the times that she and Brittany had talked about this new job. Britt had never mentioned having an assistant. She quietly followed him to a darkened beach scene. Tiki torches lit the scene against an airbrushed beach backdrop. The girls who had been wearing just bikinis earlier had now added ripped jean shorts. Marco seemed to be standing at the left of the set, dressed in the same exact outfit. Maybe Marco wasn't so cliché because this video set was certainly not what she was expecting. She smiled a little and gained just a touch more respect for a guy who wasn't playing by the industry rules, even if he did now seem outright bizarre.

Brittany was still nowhere in sight. The assistant led her to a director's chair with Brittany's name on it. She felt her pride in Brittany swell just a little bit more.

Music began to blast out of the set's sound system. It shouldn't have startled her quite so much. She'd shot her own videos a number of times. Still, she gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles were white.

"You'll get used to it." A familiar voice breathed warmly against her ear. A pale hand covered her own, easing her whitened knuckles. She turned back to find Brittany's eyes smiling back at her. "Hi, babe." Brittany nuzzled into her neck. "I'm glad you're here."

Santana pulled back and stood to hug Brittany. Instead, she found herself staring at Brittany's exposed skin. She tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. Brittany grabbed her hands and stroked the backs.

"Britt. That outfit." Santana couldn't figure out the right thing to say.

"Don't you love it? And did you see that Marco's wearing it, too? He is the kookiest, funniest guy." Brittany beamed.

"I feel like everyone who passes you is staring at you."

"Well you certainly are ogling me right now."

"No...I mean...well it's just..."

Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's back and pulled her close, so that their bodies pressed together. Santana wished she were wearing fewer clothes. Brittany's eyes captured her own.

"Would I wear this at home, San?"

"No?" Santana's brow knitted in confusion.

"So you better appreciate it on me right now and stop complaining. I have to go. We have a couple more scenes to shoot. Maybe thirty minutes? Then, you're all mine." Santana felt her mouth go dry and her palms begin to sweat. "Maybe I'll even keep the outfit."

She couldn't help but stare as Brittany walked toward the stage. Santana saw her go over to Marco and point back in her direction. She saw both of their heads turn to look at her. Feeling uncomfortable, she pulled her phone from her pocket and checked her emails.

The music looped back and dancers collected on the set. Brittany stood on her mark just next to Marco as they waited for the count.

Brittany's eyes met hers from ten feet away. She smiled.

_Three. Two. One. _

Santana's eyes never left Brittany. Her body kept in perfect time with the beat. Santana couldn't remember a single time, even since their childhood music videos, when Brittany had missed a beat. Her skin was covered with a sheen of sweat captured under the gleam of the set lights. Santana remembered back to Brittany's famed "hairography" speech that she gave to the Glee Club as she watched Brittany whip blonde locks across her face.

The music cut and the dancers stopped mid-step. To be honest, Santana wasn't quite enjoying the music. Marco just didn't seem to be her taste. The quiet allowed her to step inside her own head for a moment. She still needed one more song before next week's meeting. She didn't want to think about it. Brittany was in front of her, dancing for her.

The music came back on as they reset the scene. She watched Brittany take her mark again. Her eyes refocused their attention.

_Three. Two. One. _

She studied Brittany's face as she danced. She'd seen some dancers concentrating so hard on their counts that it looked like they'd stop breathing if they missed a step. Dance was Brittany's breath. She saw Brittany close her eyes. She could feel it. It didn't matter how terrible the music might be. Brittany didn't look like she was concentrating at all.

The music cut. Brittany, breathless, looked in her direction and gave a quick smile and wave. With the absence of music, Santana had a burst of thought about her next song. Brittany had always been her muse.

The afternoon continued. The next few scenes hadn't been quite as short as Brittany projected. At each cut of the music, Santana flipped out her phone and typed in some lyrics. Each time the music came back on, she saved the lyrics and trained her eyes on Brittany. About an hour later, Brittany walked back to the director's chair, still breathless and flushed.

"All done. What'd you think?"

"I think you're amazing. I'm so proud of you, Britt." Santana whispered into her hair, pulling Brittany closer.

"I'm getting you all sweaty." Brittany pulled back.

"It's not like it's the first time you've gotten me sweaty, Britts." Santana pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and shoved her hands back into the pockets of her hoodie. Something about being around Brittany, even after more than a decade together, still reduced her to a nervous mess.

"Saaan!" Brittany grabbed at her arm and pulled her hand out of one pocket of her hoodie. She turned and scanned the warehouse. "Hold on. Before we go, I wanted you to meet Marco. I think he went to get changed." Brittany turned back toward her. "Think you can wait here a sec and I'll bring him out?"

"Sure." A few weeks ago, this would have turned into a fight. Instead, Santana was determined to prove that she was completely accepting and even proud of Brittany in her new position.

Brittany disappeared to the back of the set, behind the backdrop. Santana watched her walk away in her tight jean shorts. She hoped that Brittany wouldn't be changing out of that this evening. When Brittany disappeared, she pulled out her phone and went back to work on the lyrics she'd been typing.

She wasn't quite sure how long Brittany had been gone. When she looked back up from her phone, the warehouse had all but cleared, with the exception of a few crew members packing up the props and backdrop. Brittany was walking back toward her, still in the getup from the video. Next to her was a decidedly un-done Marco. He was stripped of his makeup and over-the-top outfit, in exchange for a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"Marco, this is my girlfriend Santana. Santana, this is Marco." Brittany stood between them, looking from face to face in excitement.

"Santana Lopez," he presented his hand and Santana shook it. Her gripped her hand at the end and held it between both of his hands. "I was a big fan before Brittany. She's made me probably your biggest fan. You two have had a love affair for the ages."

"Thanks. I'm not sure what she's been telling you, but it sounds like it's only the good stuff." Santana broke her eye contact with Marco to shoot Brittany a glance.

"No one's perfect." He finally dropped Santana's hand, only for Brittany to take it and clasp it between her own hands. "So what'd you think?"

"Well, it's an interesting concept. I look forward to seeing it introduced to the public. They can be a tough crowd, you know." Santana gave him a knowing smile. She felt Brittany's fingers tracing over her hand.

"I appreciate it. Actually, though, I meant to say what did you think of seeing Brittany in charge today? She's quite something, isn't she?"

"I'd almost forgotten." Santana felt her throat constrict. She cleared it and continued, "I haven't had a chance to really watch her dance since we were kids." She felt the warmth from Brittany's body as she leaned into her.

"Well I'm so glad that I found her. She's an amazing addition to the team." Marco put his hand on Brittany's shoulder. Santana expected to feel a tinge of jealousy, but it just wasn't there.

"I'm glad I found her, too." Santana turned to look into Brittany's eyes and wrapped her arm around Brittany's waist.

"Alright lovebirds. You two are adorable, by the way. Well I'm off to my own lovebird. Goodnight girls."

"Night, Marco."

With Marco in the distance, Santana gripped her arm around Brittany's waist and turned into her, giving her a tight hug. She could feel Brittany's breath against her cheek. "I haven't forgotten, you know, about what I said earlier. That's why I'm still wearing this."

Santana felt her breath catch. "Let's go then."

Brittany's house was closer, but Santana remembered the lyrics she'd written on her phone. She needed to be near a piano. She muttered something about leaving the front door unlocked and sped back toward her house across town. Brittany's fingertips trailed up and down her arm.

They were barely inside when Brittany pushed her against the door and kissed her lips until they felt bruised.

"Britt," Santana was breathless as she pushed back to put her weight on her feet.

"Bedroom?" Brittany was pulling at the zipper to her hoodie. She pushed it back over Santana's shoulders and ran her fingers against the skin of Santana's arms.

"Britt," Santana choked out. She pulled Brittany's hands into her own. "Britt. I need...gimme a second."

"Okay?" Brittany's eyebrows raised and her mouth dropped open. "What's wrong?" Santana looked at her nervously. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I...I'm sorry. I just have a song. I need to get it out. It'll be fast. Promise." Brittany's face didn't change as Santana quickly slid over to the piano.

"San, really? Babe, when I said 'you're all mine' back at the set, I meant I wanted to have sex with you."

"Give me just like twenty minutes, Britt. I've almost got it. I wrote the lyrics already." Santana didn't even look up at her. She'd already pulled her phone and notebook out.

"I don't even know what to say right now." Brittany's voice raised a few pitches as she expressed her disbelief.

"Britt, this is gonna be great. I need one more song for the label and this is it. Please." Santana finally broke her conversation to look over at Brittany.

"You've never turned down sex in your life. Remember in high school when you were at home with the flu? Remember when we first moved here and the apartment wasn't ready so we had to spend the first night in the car? Remember when I had the chicken pox?"

"I'm not turning it down. I'm asking...for a delay? Fifteen minutes." Santana turned back to the piano and began pounding out a few notes, then jotting them into her notebook.

Brittany sighed and sat on the couch nearby. She pulled off the boots from the video shoot.

"No no no no no," Santana stood up from the piano. "Ten minutes, babe. Leave them on. Leave everything on."

Brittany rolled her eyes and leaned back against the couch. Santana sat back at the piano bench and continued her work.

Brittany wasn't sure how long she'd been sleeping. When she woke up, Santana was on her knees, kneeling over her and breathing in her face. "Britts. Sorry babe. Ready?" Brittany could only laugh as she registered Santana's desperation.

"I wanna hear it," she said sleepily.

"No, it's time for me to be yours. Remember? 'You're all mine.' Remember?" Santana nuzzled into her neck and ran her fingers beneath her shirt.

"You made me wait. I want to hear it." She stilled Santana's hand with her own and gave a squeeze.

"Fine," Santana huffed as she walked to the piano.

"Stop acting like a baby. Just play me the song. What're you going to call it?" Brittany looked at her from the dark of the other room.

"Something about dancing. Watching you today, I was inspired."

_Having troubles telling how I feel__  
><em>_But I can dance, dance, dance__  
><em>_Couldn't possibly tell you how I mean__  
><em>_But I can dance, dance, dance__  
><em>_So when I trip on my feet__  
><em>_Look at the beat__  
><em>_The words are, written in the sand__  
><em>_When I'm shaking my hips__  
><em>_Look for the swing__  
><em>_The words are written in the air_

_Dance,__  
><em>_I was a dancer all along__  
><em>_Dance, dance, dance__  
><em>_Words can never make up for what you do_

_Easy conversations, there's no such thing__  
><em>_No I'm shy, shy, shy__  
><em>_My hips they lie 'cause in reality I'm shy, shy, shy_

_But when I trip on my feet__  
><em>_Look at the ground__  
><em>_The words are written in the dust__  
><em>_When I'm shaking my hips__  
><em>_Look for the swing__  
><em>_The words are written in the air_

_Dance,__  
><em>_I was a dancer all along__  
><em>_Dance, dance, dance__  
><em>_Words can never make up for what you do_

_Dance, dance, dance_

Santana stood from the piano before she could even finish the last lyrics. "Now can I be yours?" She stood over Brittany to pull her off the couch.

"That was beautiful, San. Explain it to me." Brittany smiled, eager to hear Santana's response.

"No. Bedroom." Santana's brow furrowed as she pulled Brittany behind her.

...

Breathless, Brittany climbed back up Santana's body. She lay fully atop her, head pressing into the space between Santana's shoulder and head. "Explain it to me."

Santana's eyes were still closed. Her chest gradually slowed to a normal breathing pattern.

"I think I realized today that I'd rather watch you dance from the audience then have you dance next to me."

Brittany pushed her arms up to look down at Santana. "Really?"

"Yeah," Santana opened her eyes to look at Brittany. "When you're dancing next to me, I don't get to see you. When you were dancing in front of me today, I remembered all over again how amazing you are. I speak through song, Britt, and you speak through dance. That's what the song was about."

"It's perfect." Brittany tucked her face back into Santana's neck. "It's perfect."

* * *

><p><em>Song by Lykke Li. <em>


End file.
